Chapter 3
Ethan’s sneakers pounded the pavement, the fresh air and afternoon sunshine a welcome change from the monotony of the treadmill.
Rescheduling his morning flight to Hawaii to one leaving that evening was already turning out to be a good decision. He’d made the move to ensure his grandmother was back to her old self but had decided to take advantage of having the morning off. So far, he’d already slept late, got a haircut and enjoyed the rare treat of reading the entire newspaper over coffee.
Swiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm, Ethan jogged in place, waiting for the traffic light to change. Now that he’d put three miles in, he’d kill the proverbial two birds by running the additional few miles to his grandmother’s house instead of driving over later.
He was eager to see if her talk with Tia had done any good.
A half hour later, Ethan paced the driveway of the house he’d grown up in with his grandparents, cooling down from his workout. He spied the curtain moving in the front window of the house next door, and not long afterward, Alice Fenton stepped out on her porch.
“Afternoon, Miss Al...”
The automatic greeting died on his lips as he took in her outfit. She’d obviously snatched a page from his grandmother’s new fashion playbook, he thought, taking in the denim cargo shorts, T-shirt and red high-top sneakers.
He shook his head at the sight. Tia Gray had a lot to answer for. Hopefully, she’d already made inroads and their breakfast visit had marked the return of his grandmother’s good sense.
“Carol’s not home.” Alice eased off the porch one step at a time, clinging to the railing.
“That’s fine. I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Ethan said, thinking she’d probably dashed off to the store. “I’ll just let myself in and wait.”
He scanned the colorful array of petunias, marigolds and geraniums in his grandmother’s flower bed for the fake rock. Locating it, he popped open the bottom panel and retrieved a spare key to the house.
He turned around to find Alice standing beside him.
“But Carol’s gone, dear,” she said.
“What do you mean, gone?” Ethan asked, a feeling of unease creeping over him. “Did she say where she was going?”
Alice shrugged. “I don’t remember exactly. She said something about a bucket. Or was it a list of buckets?”
Ethan tried to piece it together, but she wasn’t making sense. “Focus, Miss Alice. Exactly what did Grandma say?”
The older woman laid a finger over her lips and scrunched her already wrinkled face in concentration. Ethan waited with an outward calm he didn’t feel inside.
Alice brightened. “Now I remember.” She snapped her fingers. “Carol’s off to scratch some items off her bucket list.”
Bucket list? This was the first he’d heard of his grandma having anything more than a grocery list. Ethan frowned. He didn’t have to wonder where this inane idea had come from—none other than Tia Gray.
Once again, images of the woman’s dynamite legs came to mind.
He shoved them aside. Focus, he chided himself with the same directive he’d given Alice just moments ago.
“What else did my grandmother say?” Ethan asked. “Did she say anything about what time she’d be back tonight?”
“Oh, she’s not coming back tonight. She asked me to water her flowers for a couple of weeks because she and her boyfriend were taking off on an adventure.”
“Boyfriend!”
Alice flinched, and Ethan instantly regretted his tone. The bombshell his grandmother’s friend dropped had taken him by surprise. This was the first he’d heard of his grandmother seeing anyone. In the four years since his grandfather’s death, she hadn’t expressed an iota of interest in dating.
Ethan ran a hand over his freshly cut hair. “Sorry for yelling, Miss Alice. Does this boyfriend of hers have a name?”
“His name’s Glenn, and he’s what we ladies of a certain age would call a silver fox.” She nudged him in the ribs with a bony elbow. “It’s why I decided to spruce up my look like your grandma. I want to snag a hottie like him for myself. After all, I’m only a few years older than Carol.”
Alice looked down at her outfit and back at him, an expectant look plastered on her face. “So what do you think, dear? Do I look good enough to find me a Glenn?”
Ethan closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingertips to temper his frustration and ward off the beginnings of a headache.
“You look fine, Miss Alice.” He opened his eyes, exhaling the words. “Is there anything else you can tell me about this Glenn or where they might have gone? Do you know his last name or happen to remember the make or model of the car they left in?”
The older woman shook her head slowly. “Sorry, I don’t know his last name.”
Ethan began climbing the porch stairs with the key to the front door in hand. He needed to find a copy of this so-called bucket list. He also had to see if there were any clues about the mysterious Glenn. He thought of his grandmother’s recent behavior and hoped like hell he wasn’t some felon she’d met during her recent stint in lockup.
“Ethan, dear,” Alice called out. “They didn’t leave in a car. Your grandma was riding on the back of Glenn’s Harley.”
Ethan turned back to the older woman. He must have heard her wrong.
“As in m-motorcycle?” he sputtered
“Yep,” Alice confirmed. “A great, big one, too. My ears are still ringing from all the noise Glenn made revving up that baby before they left.”
Ethan plopped down on the top step and put his head in his hands. This just kept getting worse. He mentally kicked himself for not coming by the house earlier; instead, he’d relied on Tia to straighten out the mess she’d created. He should have known better.
Alice approached and placed a delicate hand on his arm. “There’s no reason for you to worry,” she said.
“Why’s that?” Ethan looked up at her, grasping for anything to alleviate his growing anxiety.
“They were both wearing helmets.”
* * *
Inside his grandmother’s house, Ethan forced himself to calm down. He had to stop reacting like a frantic grandson and approach this situation the way he did everything else, with the logical mind of an attorney.
Grabbing the cordless phone from the spotless kitchen countertop, he punched in his grandmother’s mobile number. Of course, he should have thought of doing that in the first place. He’d simply ask where she was and tell her to stay put until he could get there to bring her home.
Ethan drummed the fingertips of his free hand against the counter and stared at the kitchen’s cherry-emblazoned wallpaper, waiting for the line to connect.
“Come on, Grandma, pick up,” he muttered.
Then he heard it. A faint sound coming from the other room.
“Damn.” His free hand formed into a fist, and he slammed it against the countertop.
Ethan stalked out of the kitchen and through the dining room toward the sound; however, he knew what it was before he saw the mobile phone on his grandmother’s bedroom bureau. His own name and number flashed across the small screen. Next to it was a folded paper with his name written on it.
He snatched the note off the bureau and scanned his grandmother’s familiar scrawl.
His